Chapter 6: Bea’s Confession

Eleanor clutched the printouts from Dr. Reed’s tracing system, the raw data a searing indictment of Arthur’s treachery. She had the proof, but she knew confronting Arthur directly would be a dead end. He would deny, gaslight, and twist. She needed an insider.

Beatrice Albright.

Arthur’s junior aide. The young woman who had taken Eleanor’s place on the ship, who had been so eager to please him. Eleanor remembered Beatrice’s wide, earnest eyes, her quiet efficiency. She was ambitious, but Eleanor sensed a fundamental decency beneath the surface.

This would be a gamble.

Eleanor waited until she knew Arthur would be out of the WPB office, attending one of his carefully orchestrated social functions. Then, she walked directly to Beatrice’s desk.

Beatrice looked up, her smile fading as she saw Eleanor standing over her. “Eleanor? What are you doing here?” Her voice was tight with apprehension.

“We need to talk, Beatrice,” Eleanor said, keeping her voice low but firm. “About Arthur. And about the convoy.”

Beatrice glanced nervously around the bustling office. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Major Croft wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“Major Croft is not here,” Eleanor countered, sliding a single sheet of paper across Beatrice’s desk. It was a summary printout, showing the direct financial pipeline from WPB security funds to Apex Logistics, and then, starkly, to Arthur’s personal accounts.

Beatrice’s eyes widened as she read it, her face draining of color. Her hands trembled slightly as she pushed the paper back. “I… I don’t know what this is. It looks like nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense, Beatrice,” Eleanor insisted, leaning closer. “It’s a financial map. It shows how Arthur has been systematically diverting funds meant for the convoy’s security. Funds that were supposed to provide extra destroyers, better sonar, more patrols.”

“That’s impossible,” Beatrice whispered, but her voice lacked conviction. “Arthur would never…”

“He has,” Eleanor interrupted, her voice gaining intensity. “And I have the proof. This is a new cryptographical tracing technique, Beatrice. It’s irrefutable. It links Apex Logistics directly to Croft Industries, and then directly to Arthur’s personal accounts.”

She paused, letting the information sink in. “He’s making a fortune, Beatrice, by compromising a vital wartime convoy. By making it less safe.”

Beatrice pushed her chair back, almost overturning it. “You’re lying! He wouldn’t do something like that! He’s a patriot!”

“He’s a thief, Beatrice,” Eleanor stated plainly, her eyes locked on the younger woman’s. “And you know something about it, don’t you?”

Beatrice averted her gaze, her lips pressed into a thin line. A tear welled in her eye, then spilled down her cheek.

“He… he asked me to make some ‘minor adjustments’,” Beatrice stammered, her voice barely audible. “Just to some drafts. To ‘streamline the process,’ he said.”

“What kind of adjustments?” Eleanor pressed, keeping her tone even, though her heart was pounding.

Beatrice looked up, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and shame. “He had me… alter some of your original proposals. Specifically, the ones detailing the allocation for the long-range anti-submarine sonar and the additional escort vessels.”

Eleanor felt a fresh wave of disbelief and anger. “He had you destroy my original plans, didn’t he? The ones designed for maximum safety.”

Beatrice nodded, tears flowing freely now. “He told me they were ‘overly cautious’ and that his revised versions were ‘more efficient’ for wartime budgets. He said you were too sentimental, that your emotional state clouded your judgment.”

Eleanor’s stomach tightened. The gaslighting, the emotional manipulation, all extended to Beatrice too. Arthur had not only stolen Eleanor’s work, he had used her own aide to cover his tracks and weaken the convoy.

“He also had me sign off on some documents for ‘Apex Logistics’,” Beatrice confessed, her voice thick with remorse. “He said it was a new, cutting-edge sub-contractor, essential for wartime innovation. He made it seem like I was doing something important.”

“He manipulated you, Beatrice,” Eleanor said, her voice softer now, seeing the genuine anguish in the young woman’s face. “Just like he tried to manipulate me.”

Beatrice buried her face in her hands, sobbing silently. “I didn’t know it was real. I just… I wanted to impress him. He promised me a promotion, a future here at the WPB.”

“He used your ambition against you,” Eleanor stated, her voice devoid of judgment, only fact. “But now you know the truth. He compromised the convoy, Beatrice. He put thousands of lives at risk, and he used you to do it.”

Beatrice looked up, her face streaked with tears. “What do I do? He’ll ruin me. He’ll say I’m unstable too. He’ll say I forged everything myself.”

“He might,” Eleanor conceded. “But you can choose to do the right thing, Beatrice. You can choose to expose him. Your testimony, coupled with this evidence, could save that convoy.”

Beatrice trembled, the weight of her complicity pressing down on her. “I don’t know if I can. He’s so powerful.”

“He’s powerful because people are afraid to stand up to him,” Eleanor countered. “But you’re a good person, Beatrice. You know what’s right.”

Eleanor gently pushed the printout back towards Beatrice. “Look at this again. This isn’t just about Arthur’s career. It’s about every man on that ship. Every soldier, every sailor. Their lives are hanging by a thread, a thread Arthur cut for profit.”

Beatrice stared at the document, the abstract numbers transforming into faces, into the potential for disaster. The reality of her actions, however minor she perceived them, now crashed down on her with full force. She had been a pawn, but a willing one, and her actions had real consequences. The guilt was immense, palpable.

“What would I have to do?” Beatrice asked, her voice barely a whisper, but with a flicker of resolve in her eyes. “To tell the truth?”

Eleanor knew this was the turning point. “You would have to give a sworn testimony. To someone who can’t be bought or intimidated. Someone who will take this evidence and make it public.”

Beatrice nodded slowly, wiping her tears. The fear was still there, but it was now overshadowed by a dawning sense of moral obligation. She had seen the truth, and she could no longer pretend otherwise. Arthur’s charm and promises now felt like poison. She had to choose, and she knew what that choice had to be, no matter the personal cost.